The Rasalhague Raiders Series One
by MosinM38
Summary: The Raiders are in their first fight Of this series on the backwater Lyran planet of Rosice in the Fed-Com civil War. Finally updated! Beta still needed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: You know the drill..Property of Wizkids,microsoft/blahblah whoever owns Battletech and Mechwarrior.

Warnings: None. Mild language, maybe harsher later on.

Authors Notes: Well...Finally got out my first battletech chapter...Sorta drags abit, but I thought it a okay beginning chapter.. The next will take place on the Jumpship, and explain a little about the Unit's history,etc. I will say a couple MAJOR warnings.

#1. I am not hugely in-sync with the Battletech Universe, that is exact planets, and the Civil war battle lines, unit stations,etc/ So for this chapter, I am remaining the planet anonymous ;) It's within 4 jumps of the Marik Border...pick one of your choosing.

#2. This is NOT a crossover...I needed characters (And only characters). Although a number are taken from the Stargate universe, they are not crossovers, but Battletech characters now. Of course the good VS evil is still there...Sheppard, O'neil, Teyla, Ronan,etc good guys VS Kinsey, and his various minions renamed that are nicknamed ancient gods (Ba'al, Ra, Apophis,etc.)..

--

Marik Planet: LocationXXXX.

"Mister Prien?" The man in front of him questioned.

Raising his head, Grant looked the man over. Not that he hadn't already seen him make his way across the bar...He was just waiting until now to acknowlage it. Somewhat tall, thin, but mostly muscle. Early thirties and somewhat roguish in appearance, he still had the bearing of a military man, of a commander.

"Yes. And you are Sheppard?"

"That's right," the man stuck out his hand, "John Sheppard, hopefully over your service." He said it as a joke, but it somewhat fell flat considering the circumstances.

Grant Prien took his hand and shook it, "Please, sit down Mister Sheppard. I have been going over the files you sent to me regarding your...situation." Grant gave a quick glance back at his laptop computer in front of him before returning attention to his possible employer, "And I have a few questions."

"Feel free to ask," Sheppard waved at a passing server, "Beer if you please, miss."

"Put it on my tab, Cathy, okay?" Grant spoke up at her. The waitress winked at him and moved off to fill the order, "And my usual." He called after her.

Sheppard turned towards him and seated himself more comfortably, "That's not neccesary..." he began.

Grant waved it off, "It is nothing, and you may be hard-pressed enough to pay me as it is."

John grimaced, "Yeeaaahhh about that..."

"Let me get to my questions first, " Grant gave a final glance at the computer before closing it and setting it aside, "Let me get this straight. You got 3 companies of mechs, and 65 armor vehicles, correct? Plus air assests and mudders?" he finished using his unit's term for infantrymen.

"Yeah. The moment I touched down here, I got a message dad sent. Lost 6 mech's and a dozen tanks up to a week ago. By the time we leave, another 3 or 4 mechs, and by the time we arrive back, probably another half dozen, plus armor lost."

Grant paused as the waitress returned, "Here's your soda," she set an orange pop in front of Grant, "And here's your beer." she set the bottle in front of Sheppard.

"Thanks miss," John picked up the beer and gave her a roguish smile, "Hey, I might want another one in a bit." He winked at her and she had a series of giggles before moving off, and spent the next two minutes stumbling over chairs and tables, glancing back at him.

Taking a sip of his soda Grant chuckled, "How the hell did you manage that? She's been hit on by every guy here, and you manage to crack her up with, "I'll want another one later."

"It's a talent," John took a swig of his beer and gave a bemused look at the mercenary in front of him.

Grant continued, "Okay. So..Count you as having two companies of mechs, assorted lights and mediums, with a odd heavy and assault, plus about a third in various stages of repair, armor in about equivalent shape. Correct?"

John Sheppard grimaced and nodded, "Yeah. Right now the fighting is pretty slow and far between. Neither side has a big enough advantage to push hard, but enough to let stuff be. I am guessing that by the time we can get back there, Kinsey will have a merc company there, and possibly a Lyran unit. It isn't a big or important planet, but a Lyran victory would bring some good morale boosts to their side, and on a weak planet like ours they have a good chance of succeeding."

"And you're pro-Davion then?" Grant asked.

The man opposite him shrugged, "Not so much as pro-Davion, as anti-Steiner." He stopped and didn't continue.

"That's settled...Now..as to..payment."

"Although I am sure not enough for you to be hired on, I brought a down payment of half a million C-Bills."

"And for after my services are concluded?" Grant asked.

"Here is the interesting deal... Here's the offer...We cannot garuntee full payment...If we lose, or the war is a draw, we will be drained, my family that is. The Sheppard family owns the poorer half of the planet, for owning that, we only have a third of the mines, and just barely half of the timber, agriculture, and industrial sections."

Grant mused over this, "I have done some looking...purely research of course...Your family is endebted to the worst loan shark in the Marik league...You know that right?"

John nodded, "Yes. but he is the only one who would loan us the amount needed. We are financially drained. We NEED to take the Kinsey's mines, and industrial sections to repay the loaners...If we don't," he shrugged, "Basically we turn our half of the planet over to debtors."

"One final thing," Grant said as he drained his soda, "You mentioned something in youre report I found especially interesting...The Sheppards own a jumpship?"

John nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah. That is one of the reasons we got a good loan. It is a...eh...pure fluke that we still own a operational one. BUT..It has worked out good. Until the Kinsey's back-stabbed us, they used our jumpship to fly THIER refined metals off-planet, and import weaponry...It allowed us to keep track of them a little. And now, they have to hire another jumpship service."

"And it gives my unit a free-ride to your planet, 2 hops to the Marik Border, and another 4 Jumps into Lyran space if I remember right."

"That too," John glanced around the bar almost uncertainly and then spoke, "What we offer is full salvage for anything you knock down, and you got the right to strip Kinsey bases of everything on them that doesn't relate to intellegance needed by us, such as prisoners and computers. No looting of civilians, or mainstay industrial works, those we still need. But we figure between our offer, the promised payment if we win, and your salvage rights, should be enough. And when this is all over, our jumpship will take you 10 hops away to rendevoue with another one."

Grant leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. He didn't like the deal. There was little promised payment if things went wrong, he could assume the Sheppard mechs and pilots were average backwater planet jocks piloting worn out flea-chasers, and he was trying to keep his own debtors off his back.

Then again...His debtors were hardcore Davionists and had "Suggested" he take only contracts regarding to their cause, lest his debts be called in all at once. This would help keep them happy...And he had a few other things up his sleeve.

"You've got yourself the Rasalhague Raiders Mister Sheppard. My unit can be ready to be off-planet in 72 hours, if you can," Grant held his hand out to the man in front of him.

John took it almost thankfully, "That is good Mister Prien. As much as I don't want to admit this, we need help. And no other mercenary units were wanting to touch this with a two thousand ton battlemech."

"I will speak to you in the morning, You're at the Imperion I assume?" Grant asked, reffering to the spaceport's hotel.

"Yeah. Room 302." Sheppard looked like he was about to ask something, but Grant turned away and placed his laptop on the table again, signalling that he was done.

As the man walked away from the table and out the door, a woman stood from a nieghboring table and seated herself across from Grant.

"Is it a deal?" She asked.

Grant nodded, "Yeah. We're lifting off in 72 hours. Get the techies loading our equipment doubletime, drag the mechjockies out of whatever whorehouses they fell into, and check the local lockup, I'm sure David and Danielle got themselves into trouble this weekend."

He stood from the table and collected his laptop. Not bothering to count exactly, he dropped a small wad of C-bills onto the table, covering his tab, plus a healthy tip. Walking to the door he was joined by the woman.

"I will speed up the loading of the dropships, and start checking the local gutters for the mechwarriors. You will be returning to the _Rasalhague_, aff?" Reffering to the Overlord class dropship that served as the unit's headquarters.

"Yeah," he replied. At that moment they passed out the front doors of the bar, and into the street. Although a relatively upper-class neighborhood, the usual crowd of toughs was assembled outside the door, long raincoats concealing the usual array of weaponry they carried.

A glance at the pair however, made them turn their heads and pretend to not notice them. Two six foot mechwarriors, both openly wearing sidearms were too tough of a target, at least for tonight.

As they walked off, Grant continued, "Don't take too long, it's still early and the true scum haven't come out yet. You could take them, but I don't want the public attention right now."

Nodding, the woman split away from him, turning into the direction of the red-light district to look over the cat-houses and pull out the required mechwarriors.

As Grant continued towards his dropship, he glanced back in her direction and saw three street-toughs assembling in the shadows and slinking along behind her, their eventual intent obvious. He chuckled as he watched the seemingly oblivious, attractive, Clanswoman march ahead of them. Six feet tall, 180 pounds, all muscle, not one but two handguns, a short katana, concealed beneath her jacket, and strapped to her back...He almost felt sorry for the stupid bastards...almost.


	2. Chapter 2

Well!! IT's coming along. Thanks for all the reviews!! I really appreciate the insight. Thanks also to the Beta's Sullimike, and TasmanianTiger!!.

Sorry it's going slowly ;) I am attempting to finish up some Jericho stuff I got started on. But I am still progressing :D I got Chapter 3 (Of this) about a quarter done already.

--

Yawning sleepily, Grant Prien rolled over in his bunk, and glanced blearily at his clock. 05:00 hours. He rolled over, intent on going back to sleep.

However 15 minutes later, he was fully dressed and stepping out the door of his dropship compartment, unable to break his habit. For the past 11 years, he had never slept past 5:20AM standard time except once. And that was in a Lyran hospital.

Walking down the halls, he made his way to the grav deck's gym.

Stepping into the gym, he slipped off his magnetic shoes, and replaced them with his normal combat boots, which he left in the gym while the dropship was in space. Looking around the gym, he noticed only three other occupants, which was unusual considering his unit's rule that all members, regardless of job, remained in utmost physical shape,especially during spaceflight.

"Little quite in here isn't it?" he asked the nearest woman, the same one who had accompanied him to the bar 3 days previously, and his second in command.

Kenna looked at him amusedly, "It is only 5:30. Outside the four of us, very few of them are ever here."

As she returned to her workout, Grant looked around at the three occupants of the gym, all from his lance.

Alexandre Helo. Born in the Free Worlds League, he was of Greek Descent, of which he was quite proud of, proclaiming it at any conveniant time. In his late 20's, he had been a part of the Raiders for 6 years, joining during a time on the FWL's periphery border. Tall, and relatively skinny for his weight, with a roguish mustache and black hair, he had a habit of being a ladies man, albeit without any of the talents, and thus success of one. His skill in his _Grand Dragon_ was thankfully better though, and was a valuable member.

He was sparring with his second lancemate, Edward Beck, who also happened to be kicking his ass. A former member of a backwater Lyran Alliance militia, he had joined during the Clan invasion. He was aging, one of the oldest members of the unit at 45. But in spite of the salt and pepper hair, he could pilot his _Quickdraw_ with the best of them. Although a skilled pilot, he turned down a number of offers of promotion to lance commander, instead preffering to remain on the command lance.

Last of all his eyes fell onto his second in command. Although she was second in command, he retained her to his personal lance due to her fighting style. After fighting together for 10 years, in the same two Clan battlemechs, his _Madcat_ and her _Ryoken_ they could both anticipate the others moves, and were a deadly combination.

Kenna Carns, a former Star Captain from Clan Wolf, was undoubtably the most fit person in the gym. Six feet tall, and weighing a 180 pounds, she was easily lifting a set of 150 pound weights. Long black hair, tied back in a ponytail, with a curving figure, it was easy to forget that she was still his bondsman, taken in 3052. Although time eventually won out over his initial distrust of clanners, and he had elevated her position in the unit to second in command, even now, she still retained the small red bondscord around her wrist.

After thinking about the other occupants of the gym, his thoughts turned to himself and the unit he had built up. How he had changed in the 13 years he had been in the Rasalhague Raiders.

When Grant had joined it in 3050, he had been 18 then and it had been known as Hells Blazes. The planetary militia he had been a member of, on a backwater Rasalhague planet, had been nearly annihilated with only himself and one other member being rescued by the mercenary company and taken to friendly lines.

After two thoroughly screwed up years on the Clan front, the units CO, along with the top third of it's ranking officers were killed in a Clan ambush, and he had become it's leader/owner and renamed it the Rasalhague Raiders, in honor of his nearly devoured nation.

Since then, his unit had taken various contracts, mostly planetary civil wars, perephery pirate hunts, and occasional garrison contracts against clan raids.

Even so, he had built the unit from it's two half strength companies in 3052, to it's current roster of two demi-battalions of battlemechs, and oversized battalion of Armor. Although he had to go into debt to do so, he had also expanded his units support structure, purchasing (over time) three dropships, and adequate repair facilities. Although he still owed because of it, he considered it a fair trade-off, in exchange for his unit not depending on sometimes unreliable planetary sources for transport and repair.

The thought of it all gave him a grim smile. Although the Clan invasion affected nearly every person in the inner sphere, he knew his life would have been massively differant. He would probably still be serving the Rasalhauge Militia as a iClint/i pilot, training on the weekends, while working during the week at the firearms and gunsmithing shop that had been in his family for a couple dozen generations, possibly married...

He snapped out of his thoughts as revellie sounded on the dropships communications system. At his orders, 6:10AM standard time each morning, the vintage Terran tune was played to wake every person in his command. Another of his unit rules was that members became used to early rising, early exercise and breakfast eaten. Often allowing them their own scheduale the rest of the day, he nonetheless wished to instill a sense of discipline into his normally lax mechwarriors.

As he stood from his excercising he realized how much time had passed. 40 minutes had gone by in the gym and he had not even noticed it, or the various excercises he had done. He shrugged it off, he always did that when excercising, made him barely even notice it.

As they entered the hall, his lancemates turned in the direction of the mess hall, while Grant went the opposite way.

As he left he called behind him, "I'll meet you guys in the mess. I'm gonna check over my mech."

The others mearly waved him off, knowing it was a ritual with him. A habit stemming from the early days of the unit when the mechwarriors worked on their own machines alongside techs, due to the lack of funds to hire additional ones.

He made his way down endless passages, now becoming occupied by various crewmen and women, making their way to the mess hall and with the night shift coming off and heading to their bunks.

Finally he reached the mechbay and the machines that occupied it. Walking along the clamped mechs he finally reached his.

Looking upward, Grant smiled at the massive war machine. The Clan _Madcat_ always seemed as if it were crouched and ready to leap forword, devouring everything in it's path. It had the standard dull gray paint with speckled black paint scheme that was common to his unit. Since enough clantech weapons had become available to refitt it as he wanted, it had been extensively modified from the "Standard" (If a omnimech ever had that name) model common to the clans.

The ER Large Lasers had been removed and replaced with a pair of ERPPC's, gaining heavier punch, with only a minimal increase in heat and weight. The Machine guns and pulse laser had been removed and a additional pair of ERMLAS's added to make a total of 4. The LRM20's had been replaced by two SRM6's in the left weapons pod, and a LRM10 in the right. With what weight was left Jump Jets had been installed, allowing 90 meters of jump capacity, and a pair of clantech double heat sinks added. It allowed him a good long range punch, and then a complete switch to close-range weaponry once melee had been attained.

Grant still couldn't believe that he had this 'Mech after all that time. Back in 3050 when the Clans began their invasion, he was still young and inexperienced in combat. He had gained a great deal of it going to defend his homeworld, but lost a good portion of his heart and comrades in the aftermath. This _Madcat_ was all that was left of that past.

"Oh it's you," a voice behind him interupted his thoughts. He turned and looked at the voice's occupant.

"And here I thought you might actually go a day without lookin' at that blasted mech," The man said it in a ridiculing tone, but as he did his beard rustled and his eyes gave away the fact he was joking.

The voice belonged to Marvelous "Merlin" Macgregor, the Raiders chief tech. He had been in the unit since the 4th Succession war, before it was known as the Rasalhague Raiders, and even before it was known as Hells Blazes.

He was a wiry Scotsman that was anywhere between 60 and 190 years old, but still in top shape, even with his nearly excessive smoking and drinking ("Bah, what do doctors know? 4 cartons of cigarettes a day, six pints a bitter and a good notch'a whiskey a'day and still fit as a fiddle" as he said). Born away from New Caledonia, he didn't have the thick accent common to them, but aside from that he was a spitting image of a fiery Scot. Standing 5' 6", and only a 140 pounds, his beard was as large as half his body, his mouth and chin unseeable under the thick mass of white whiskers that bristled out in the common Scot appearance. Nonetheless he was a topnotch mechanic on any machine with a engine in it, fusion, diesal, gasoline it didn't matter, gaining him his nickname of Merlin, seeming to have mystical powers when it came to repairs.

"Hey Merlin," Grant said as he turned away, "Not yet...Probably look at it every day until I die, or she gets blown away to nothing."

"Prob'ly b'de same day," the tech commented.

Grant smiled at that then turned to leave, "You're probably right." He replied.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the reviews!! Much appreciated :D

Sorry!! Another blabbing chapter :( Next chapter will be a TOE, and then planetfall and maybe some mech action :D

Onto my next thing: Anyone wanting to be a Beta, please PM me with your details. I would appreciate one :D Thanks.

--

Lyran Space. Nine weeks after aquisition of Rasalhague Raiders service.

Leaving his quarters, Grant made his way to the hardpoint, connecting his dropship to the Sheppard's jumpship. An hour ago, twelve hours before their final jump, he had agreed to board and discuss last minute arrangements with John Sheppard for their drop. Something had struck him as funny sounding when Sheppard had mentioned it a week ago, but this far into Lyran space was not the time to question him about it.

At the hardpoint he was met by Kenna.

"You're going with me eh?" he asked.

She nodded, and then turned as the techs began pressurizing the connection between the two ships. After several minutes a light flashed green, and the inner door of his dropship retracted inward. Another half a minute and the outer door leading to the hardpoints interior swung open, allowing them into the passageway.

Upon reaching the other end, the jumpship's doors opened in duplicate fashion and they stepped inside. A pair of gaurds approached them as they set feet inside the jumpship.

"Your weapons," the one inquired. Holding out a hand for them. As the man did, it took Grant awhile to realize what he meant. He was used to carrying a weapon all the time and had thought nothing of putting on the two handguns he usually carried. And the combat knife, hand grenades, and ammunition belt.

"No," he replied, "Take us to your boss."

At this the two men stepped back and unslung their rifles, "Your weapons...sir," he added as an afterthought. Grant did not move threateningly, but shifted the shoulder holster he was wearing, and positioned his other hand nearer his hip-mounted holster. Kenna did the same, not in a threating manner but being cautious.

Grant looked over the man, a young corporal from the look of it. Probably still trying to enforce every single rule he had seen in the Junior NCO handbook.

"Go screw yourself. We ain't gonna cause trouble with our employer."

Before the corporal could reply, Sheppard turned the corner, "Corporal, at ease."

The two gaurds looked at the man and hesitantly lowered their weapons. At his motion they turned and left around the corrider.

"Sorry 'bout that. With all the troubles, we had, to recruit some of the militia into the regular military...some of 'em are a little gung-ho," he paused, "Do you uh...always go armed? I mean we're in space now..."

Grant nodded, "Little habit from the Clan Invasion." Wanting to change the subject, he asked his own question, "Okay what's going on? You wanted me to come over for some last minute changes, that I personally think you had planned all along."

Sheppard shrugged and motioned for them to follow. As they did he went through several passages before turning into what was obviously his cabin.

Grant and Kenna stepped inside as Sheppard closed the door. Silently he moved to the back wall of the cabin and pressed a hidden button. A section of the wall retracted, revealing a safe. Punching in the combination he reached in and pulled out a pair of holodisks before closing the safe.

"I brought you here to give you last minute updates," John finally said, "That couldn't be said before."

"Like what?" Grant was becoming increasingly edgy, as more cloak and dagger stuff began revealing itself.

"The first is our line positions as of our last update, our last stop had a HPG station on-planet, and I recieved information from my father on battle-line updates."

"And the second?"

"To tell you the last of our...uh...withheld information...We have another mercenary unit working for us," John held up a hand, "I know what you think. I didn't want to do it, but I got over-ruled..the others figured if you knew of their contract details you wouldn't join us."

"Let me guess, they are recieving damn good pay, along with half salvage rights...am I wrong?" Grant shoved down his inner rage. He couldn't cancel his contract over this, considering how close they were to the job, and he couldn't afford to do that because of the debts he owed.

"You're right. We had hired them before Kinsey back-stabbed us, and they arrived a week after his initial attacks. So they had their payment for duty beforehand, and they get half-salvage in exchange for their monetary payment being delayed until the action is over," Sheppard leaned back in his chair.

"Like I said, I'm sorry about this. I thought you had to be told, but everyone else disagreed...and I can see their point...You're fighting for pay,...we are fighting for our existance. If Kinsey wins, my family will get virtual death sentance, we can leave the planet, but that is our very existance. The Sheppards have been there ever since the first human set foot on the planet...It's all we know."

_'Yeah. "I'm sorry" really covers that,'_ Grant thought. Choking back his retort, Grant replied the only way he felt he could, "We're square, as long as we are clear on one thing."

"What's that?"

"The other mercenary unit is under my command, and I get partial autonamy to my operations. If I work for salvage, I got to be able to get some."

"Deal," Sheppard agreed quickly. He chuckled and then continued, "We already planned on putting the other unit under you. And as long as you support us on our missions, you are free to do as you please," he held up a hand, "Within reason."

Changing subjects, Grant asked another question, "Who is this mercenary unit by the way?"

"A unit straight from the Fedcom Periphery. The Smoke Tigers, formed in 3059 for mop-up operations on former Smoke Jagaur worlds. After most of those were pacified, they hired on with Davion for periphery pirate hunting. Their leader was killed 9 months ago in a pirate ambush, and his second in command took over."

"A smaller unit I assume? I never heard of them before," Grant commented.

"Yes. Only 10 mechs arranged into two star formations. They were re-organized into those formations when their new Commander took over... A woman named," Sheppard tapped on his laptop, "Commander Tanea Warrick."

Grant nodded as he took in the information, "Okay. Give me your battle-lines and I will look them over. I assume you also have the best intellegance possible on mech and armor locations?"

Sheppard withdrew the disc from the laptop and handed it to him, "It's all on there, including the information on the Smoke Tigers."

Grant took the disc and placed it in a pocket, "I guess we will be leaving then." He turned and motioned to Kenna, who joined him.

Halting at the door, Grant turned to Sheppard, "Conveniant that merc unit you hired, came a week after Kinsey back-stabbed you."

"Yes. We knew it would happen eventually," John replied.

"Yeah...That or maybe do a little of your own backstabbing," Grant gave a slight chuckle at John's reaction, confirming his suspicions, "See you on-planet."

As they left, Grant was silent a few moments before turning to his second in command, "You were quiet back there. Didn't say a damned word the entire time you've been on this jumpship."

"Was there anything to say?" she asked. He had to admit, she had a point.


	4. Chapter 4

Many thanks for all the reviews!! Very helpful!! Thanks again to Tasmanian Tiger for the help ;)

Apologies for another blabbering chapter ;) hopefully just this one. Next will be a drop on planet, and definately by chapter 6 there will be a mech fight.

P.S. Anyone looking to Beta feel free ;) If not no worries, just asking :D

--

Sheppard Family Dropship. John Sheppards quarters.

After Grant left, John thought over the proceedings. Everything turned out decent, at least he hadn't become pissed off...well...at least openly, and cancelled.

A few minutes later, he inserted a second disc into his laptop and punched it onto the screen. It contained the Rasalhague Raiders "TOE" of command. Behind the list of units, and their pilots and weapons configurations, was small notations on the units purpose, along with strategic notes.

--

Note: Due to the still minimal size of the unit, The Company and Battalion lists are paper-only, with companies being formed per lance, as situations decree.

**Alpha Battalion**. Strength: 2 Companies.

**Company One.** Strategic objective: Fast response reinforcement, strategic offensive force.

**Alpha Wolf Lance. Command Lance**. Callsign: Wolf. Specialty: Fast response.

_Madcat_ Commander Grant Prien.

_Ryoken(BAP)_ Lieutenant Commander Kenna Carn.

_Quickdraw_ Mechwarrior Edward Beck.

_Grand Dragon_ Mechwarrior Alexandre Helo.

**Flying Eagle Lance.** Callsign: Eagle. Speciality: All mechs jump capable.

_Guillotine_ Lieutenant "King" James Hoffman.

_Catapult_

_Thunderbolt_

_Trebuchet_

**Firebird Lance** Callsign: Firebird. Specialty: Fire support lance.

_Warhammer_ Lance Commander Judy Thorn.

_Crusader_

_Archer_

_Griffin_

**Company Two.** Strategic Objective: Assault unit.

**Executioner Lance** Callsign: Ex. Specialty: Slow assault.

_Atlas_ Captain Hugh Olsen.

_Awesome_

_Awesome_

_Longbow_

**Highlander Lance** Callsign: Highland. Specialty: Heavy hitting brawler unit.

_Highlander_ Lieutenant Robert North.

_Charger_

_Charger_

_Orion_.

**Dominator Lance** Callsign: Dom. Specialty: Fast assault unit with detachable recon mech.

_Zeus_ Lance Commander Azeem Sharif.

_Hatamoto_

_Salamander_

_Fenris(BAP)_

**Beta Battalion** Strength: 2 Companies.

**Company Three** Strategic Objective: Flexible mixed medium and light mech force.

**Hellfire Lance** Callsign: Hellfire. Specialty: Long range harrassing fire, and fast support..

_Griffin _Major Ariel Tam.

_Cicada_

_Trebuchet_

_Dervish_

**Rogue Lance** Callsign: Rogue. Specialty: Mixed bag. General brawlers with attached recon mech.

_Enforcer _Lieutenant John Hawthorn.

_Centurion_

_Griffin_

_Raven(BAP)_

**Jackel Lance** Callsign: Jackel. Specialty: Multipurpose brawling, support and defence lance.

_Archer _Lance Commander Sharon Kepper.

_Thunderbolt_

_Centurion_

_Hunchback_

**Company Four** Strategic Objective: Light mech force, general support, rear area raiders.

**Oddball Lance** Callsign: Oddball. Specialty: Mixed bag general unit.

_Vindicator_ Captain Victor Daniels.

_Whitworth_

_Battlehawk_

_Hammer_

**Sudden Death Lance** Callsign: Death. Specialty: Long range direct fire support.

_Uller_ Lieutenant Cassandra Ellis.

_Puma_

_Clint_

_Valkrie_

**Pursuer Lance** Callsign: Pursuit. Specialty: Recon mech and attached escorts.

_Koshi(BAP)_ Lance Commander Randolph Owens.

_Commando_

_Jenner_

_Javelin_

**Charlie Battalion** Strength: 5 Commpanies of Armor and support vehicles.

**Company One** Callsign:Treadheads.

6 Manticore Heavy Tanks. Major Jack Carter.

2 Rommel Heavy Tanks.

2 Patton Heavy Tanks.

**Company Two** Callsign:Thumper (Unit note: Lineholder company. Well disciplined crews, the best of the armored battalion. Equel to their tonnage in battlemechs)

2 Rommel Heavy Tanks. Captain George Clark.

2 Patton Heavy Tanks.

1 Von Luckner Heavy Tank.

3 Steurmfeur Assault Tanks.

2 Schrek PPC Carrier Assault Tanks.

**Company Three** Callsign: Teller

10 Galleon Light Tanks. Captain William Teller.

bCompany Four/b Callsign: Scorpion.

10 Scorpion Light Tanks. Captain Aretha Sturm.

**Company Five** Callsign: Firestorm. (Unit Note. Oversized Company consisting solely of support units, varying from close to long range support. A company in name only, command being at Lance level).

6 LRM Carriers.

6 Pikes.

6 Partisans.

6 Hunters

2 Beheamoth Assault Tanks.

Ground Battalion.

**Skull Company** Callsign: Skull.

48 IS Standard Battlearmors. Major Alvin Keyes.

Organized into six lances of 8 BA each.

**Mudder Company** Callsign: Mudder

10 Platoons of Infantry. Major Charles Connor.

**VTOL detachment.** Callsign: Headhunters.

4 Cavalry VTOLs. Captain David Paulson.

4 Warrior VTOLs.

--

**Falcon, Aerospace Wing**. Callsign: Spacebirds

3 Corsair Medium Fighters. Major Tipper Harley.

3 Stuka Heavy Fighters

4 Sparowhawk Light Fighters.

Overlord Class Dropship _Rasalhague_ Captain Jacob Harley.

Excaliber Class Dropship _Destructer _Captain Greguire Roland.

Union Class Dropship _Outpost_ Captain Orville Aaron.

--

Looking at the clock, John flipped off the computer, deciding to get some sleep before the next jump took place.

_Rasalhague_ Overlord class Jumpship. Grant Prien's quarters.

Returning to his quarters, Grant glanced at the clock. Still ten hours until the next jump. Immediatly after jumping, the dropships were going to detach and make a drop to their assigned sectors.

Turning to his computer he slid in the data-disc and re-examined the contents.

First he examined the layout of the planet. There were three continents on it, one was seperated from the other two, roughly 800 kilometers in the middle of the oceans that made up much of the world, it was mainly populated by independant towns and cities, not having enough of any particular resource to be useful, what little it did produce was either bought by the Sheppards or Kinsey's and included in their own exports.

The remaining two were equel sized, seperated only by several hundred kilometers of ocean, and connected by a land bridge that was no more than a thin strip bordered by a saltwater marsh.

And just like the old Korean peninsula of Terra, it was just as if the boundary lines had been drawn around the planets equater, leaving huge expanses of land to be patrolled and protected by both sides, at least in the beginning..

The western continent was flat and barren of mountains, it's eastern half almost fully farmlands, with intercrossing forrests and lakes, while the western portion was virtually abandoned desert, home only to a few small roving pirate bands and settlers groups intent on avoiding any "Involvement" from "Upitty government". The lines indicating ownership, showed that Kinsey had made several deep gouges into the Shepparts territoty, including the taking of the entire land bridge, allowing himself inter-continental access, and forcing the Sheppards to use sea-borne or air transport.

The eastern continent as more varied, with mountain ranges on one extreme, and tapering down to rolling hills, and farmland the closer it got to the other continent. On this one both sides were roughly equel, with neither side having an advantage over the other, long expanses of pre-war fortified ground, requiring scarce mechs to push through, relegating the war to a drawn out infantry and armor war.

The rough information guide, said nothing about Sheppard or Kinsey's forces sizes, likely not implicitly trusting him until planetfall was made, it did however include the other mercenary unit.

Smoke Tigers.

**Alpha Star**

Warhammer IIC. Commander Tanea Warrick.

Trebuchet.

Clint

Centurion

Assassin

**Beta Star**

Hunchback

Commando

Wasp

Stinger

Locust

**Charlie Star**

1 Elemental suit, and 4 InnerSphere Standard Battlearmor.

2 Infantry Platoons.

A smaller group, with aging and/or inferior mechs, only two stood out. The Warhammer IIC and a Elemental suit, which was rare anywhere, much less in a 3rd rate mercenary group.

--

Sighing he flipped off the laptop and set it back in it's case. There wasn't a damn thing he could do about it now, and he wouldn't decide on anything until he met the other mercenary commander and got up-to-date information on the Kinsey mechs.

On-Planet. 15 Hours and counting from Rasalhague Raiders touchdown.

"WHAT THE...," Commander Warrick exploded before being silenced by Lord Sheppard.

"The choice is not yours commander. The decision has been made, you are now under command of Commander Prien."

Reigning in her anger Tanea Warrick slowly spoke, emphasising her words, "What reason? I will not be a meatgrinder for a merc commander who cares nothing for my men."

"For two reasons," Earl Sheppard leaned back in his chair, "The first being that your actions are more suited to lance or star level mech combat. You take on odds that are twice against you. That stupi...uh..aggression is shared by this commander...," he paused, "Prien. Your units will work better together than my forces. He has a larger number of mechs, as opposed to my armor and infantry which you work so badly with."

"And the second?" Tanea asked.

"There is no second. I was trying to make a point. Dismissed Commander," Earl Sheppard stood from his chair and directed a look at the mercenary that meant "We're done".

Somewhat snappishly, she gave a brief salute before turning and walking out the door of Sheppard's library.

As she left the Sheppard palace, a final thought ran through her mind, _'I bet this turns out wonderful'_


	5. Chap 5 Planetside at last

_Well all...Been a LONG time (Too long) but I got busy and then hit writers block._

_A couple things:_

_#1. Thanks for everyone reading it :D_

_#2. My DEEPEST apologies if this chapter is newbish to battletech...I lost all my beta's!!_

_#3. ANYONE wanting to beta the chapters (One with Battletech knowladge preferable) would be highly welcome. I can't exactly pay you, but I am willing to repay the services._

_#4. Added a planet name...Okay? I looked and it didn't have any background so I just picked one._

_#5. I want a opinion from the reviewers on somethign I got for the next chapter._

_I am planning on adding a Lyran Reinforcement unit in the next chapter. I wanted it to have;_

_A. Enough respectability, that if they win Melissa Steiner can use the victory for Lyran propoganda_

_B. Unknown enough that if they lose, they won't detract to badly from the Lyran image._

_C. Decent skill without leaving a front-line un-attended._

_I know NOTHING about specific Lyran units, so I looked through a list, and picked something that I figured may be logical. If it will NOT work, let me know...real newbish on this stuff ;)_

_I picked one mech Battalion from the 1st Alarion Jaegers, and a reinforced armor battalion from the 12th Alarion Armor regiment. From the Lyran planet of Alarion...I know they are sorta planetary militia, but they were the only ones that obviously were not bigshot units, and yet may be considered enough "Regular military" in the LAAF. They have fanatical loyalty ratings to the Lyran Alliance so it seemed fitting._

_Does that sound reasonable?_

--

Orbit above Planet Rosice.

Lyran Space

3063.

Strapped into his mech, Grant looked around at the cockpit interior. Flipping several switches he began the startup procedure and the mech slowly rumbled to life.

"Name and identification code," the monotone computer demanded.

"Commander Grant Prien. Authorization code, I don't have time for this shit."

"Voice recognition pattern recognized. Startup procedures continued. Reactor online, sensors online, weapons online, all systems nominal." The computer replied.

Although his mech was clamped into it's slot inside the dropship, he flexed slightly, feeling the resistance to his moves. Sighing, he waited as he felt the dropship slipping through space towards the planet below.

If there was one thing he hated, it was being inside a dropship going planetside. Completely powerless and at the whim of someone else. Add in aerospace fighters and the chances of faulty drop, it made his skin crawl.

Nonetheless things went smoothly for some time until the dropship intercom began it's buzzing and the red lights surrounding every room began flashing.

A voice came over the intercom, the cool calmness of it's captain, Jacob Harley, "All crew not assigned to battle stations report for damage control teams. We have incoming fighters, brace for impact."

As his voice left, the dropship shuddered as the incoming fighters made strafing pass. Keying the intercom, Grant contacted the dropship bridge, "Captain Harley. What've we got?"

"Nothing we can't handle sir. Looks like a lance each of Rievers and Corsairs going for the dropships, and another quad of Sparrowhawks going for the escorts. We'll rip em up. Escorting fighters engaging."

Although he couldn't see it, Grant could visualize the unit's ten aerospace fighters moving in formation against the attacking craft.

--

"Falcon 4 engage the Rievers, we'll take those Corsairs off your backs," Tipper Harley spoke into the comms as his aerospace fighters engaged those coming up from the planet, "Falcon Flight 3. Engage the escorts. Make sure it's not a friendly, you got the same birds."

"Roger Falcon lead." "On it Lead," came the replies.

His flights having their orders, his trio of Corsairs rolled hard right to engage identical ASF's that were setting up for a strafing run on the _Outpost_ a Union class dropship.

"Okay boys, take em out," he ordered. His flight spread out and targeted the enemy fighters. At the last second before weapons range the flight of Corsairs broke, scattering in the face of his attack.

He picked a Corsair making a wide turn that was way too slow and meandering to have a skilled pilot in it. He dropped onto it's tail and unleased his lasers. A flurry of blue and green light flashed for a instant, connecting his Corsair with the one in front of him. The left wing took both of his medium lasers and three of the small lasers, while his large laser and a small missed.

The attack rattled the pilot, obviously not accustomed to combat. He throttled it, counting on high speed to get out of range, a stupid plan for a pursuing fighter with identical speed. Harley gauged a moment then unleashed a second wave of lasers. The large laser slammed into the already damaged wing and it split off, the fighter now spiralling out of control, until a second later it blossomed into a fireball.

His fighter made a jerk as he pulled out of the attack run. Glancing at his computer he noted a sparrowhawk had latched on his tail.

"Damnit," he muttered. Keying the intercom he spoke, "Falcon two where are you? I got a hawk on my tail and he ain't letting up."

To emphasise his point another small laser hammered his tail and he yanked his Corsair into a tight turn. He was somewhat surprised when the small fighter tucked in behind him, plastering him with a medium laser. Obviously this was a better pilot than the average back-water planet jock.

He made a feint left, then jinked his fighter into a hard right, but the Sparrowhawk kept on his tail, hitting with another medium laser, this time on his undamaged right wing.

"DAMNIT TWO," Tipper snarled into the mike. He always hated it whenever his wingman took off. Although a good kid, and a excellent pilot, he had a bad habit of running off sometimes.

"Right behind him Lead," came the calm voice. Harley risked a glance back and saw his wingmans Corsair slip behind the Sparrowhawk. It took the pilot a moment, but noticed the Corsair, but by then it was too late. In a blistering flash of light, the fragile fighter ripped apart and "Wildcard" Perkins pulled alongside the wing leader.

"They're on the run lead. Friendly planetside fighters are on their way up, Kelly got one and our dropships ripped one apart."

Harley sighed and glanced at his wingman, "Okay. I'll buy that. Where the hell were you?"

"Following that Hawk,"came the reply. After taking a moment of silence he continued, "Curious if you could take him."

Before answering Tipper had to chuckle. The kid had balls to say that to his face. He liked it, but..."Sounds good kid...You're paying back half the damage though." Before the younger man could reply Tipper temporarily blocked out that comlink, tired and not feeling up to what he knew would have been a lengthy argument.

--

Not having any control over the battle, Grant cut off the comms to listen in and sat back in the mech. As he moved his hands over the controls, he sent a mental thought at the mech, "How do you take freefalls?" Although he knew it was a coincedence the mech gave a slight shuder, his own impulses triggering it.

Captain Harley's voice interupted him, breaking him out of thoughts, "Sir. There are four Sheppard fighters coming up to assist. The Kinsey fighters are breaking off, minus one...wait...minus two Rievers, a Sparrowhawk and a Corsair. We will be planetside in one hour, thirty five minutes."

Re-assured somewhat Grant leaned back to "Enjoy" the ride.

After what seemed like a lifetime he could feel the dropship as the jets fired to bring the massive egg closer to it's designated path. A few seconds later, the dropship shuddered as it hit atmosphere.

Then came another eternity, longer than the one through space. Every second taking an hour to pass. The buffeting as the dropship plowed through the atmopshere increased, and clamped in mech shuddered, only increasing the nerves of the mech pilots.

The dropship gave a massive burst with it's jets, slowing the descent, followed by a massive thump, signalling touchdown.

The clamps retracted from Grant's mech, as Captain Harley's voice came over the comlink, "We are planetside. Dropships _Outpost _and _Destructer_ are just touching down. The entire combat unit should be touching dirt within 20 minutes. It'll take us longer to unload the logistics."

"Take your time captain. As long as our battlemechs are out we shouldn't be bothered," Grant switched the comlink channel, "Okay Wolf, Eagle and Firebird lances. Follow me out and set up a defensive perimeter until the entire unit is out."

He pushed down on the foot petals and the mech slowly stomped forward, out of the dropships bay doors, quickly followed by the other 11 mechs of his company.

He glanced around the country surrounding the trio of dropships, "Firebird's Take that low ridge 2 clicks north. Keep an eye out for anything unusual. Eagles stay by the dropships, Wolf lance is going to make a quick sweep of the area."

The various mechs departed into their assigned directions, his own lance peeling off for a wide perimeter check.

As they made their pass, he knew that nothing should happen. They were 70 kilometers behind the Sheppard lines, and he doubted that anything big enough to pose a threat could make it through without being noticed, especially with the firepower of three dropships. Nonetheless he played it cautious, it didn't take much extra effort to take the extra precautions, and the benefit was large.

It took nearly three quarters of an hour to complete their circuit, taking an extra-long pass around the landing area. They hadn't seen anything other than some farmers working the fields, and a small group of children outside a house that all ran to the yard's fence, gazing at the mech's and attempting to identify them from their comic books.

When they had returned, the relatively peaceful large section of rolling grasslands, surrounded by low-lying hills had been transformed.

The dropships had landed on the edges of the grass field, providing long-range scanning ability, and able to spot incoming forces and provide defensive fire. The entire mech and tank force had made it out and formed lines along the clearing edge, making room for the setup teams.

Although the dropships made up a large portion of his command operations, especially the _Overlord_ class dropship, he usually housed many of his troops in crude tent/plywood barracks, a welcome change from the cramped, six-to-one bunkrooms on the dropship that could only house four men at a time, relying on the other two to be working a shift.

Rows of tents had gone up, along with several large canvas "Shops" to work on tanks and other smaller vehicles out of the sun.

The VTOL's had been unloaded and were specks in the distance, making their way to a Sheppard airbase to join the ASF's. That was one of the few weak points in his company, lack of proper maintenance techs, and logistics for air cover, relying mostly on local resources.

All of this in a span of 40 minutes, although admittedly, most of the tents were a simple pop-up style. And the fact that his personal, even the low-rung techs on the dropship had been trained in quick bugout operations. Several times in the Clan front, only the rapid dismantlemant of equipment and bases saved them from Clan attacks, a lesson which was one of many he had not so much learned, as burned into his brain from the Clans.

Looking over the layout, he moved his mech into the lineup, intent on leaving it's cockpit and overseeing the camp's setup.

"Alpha Wolf Leader, this is Firebird Leader, we got mechs inbound from west. I make out 10 mechs of varying class, speed 35 kilometers per hour, looks like they are escorting a small convoy. "

Sighing, Grant keyed the comlink, "Sheppard mechs?"

"No sir, the sensors read Smoke Tigers," came the reply.


	6. Chapter 6

_Well All!! Thanks for the great reviews._

_First: Sorry for another blabbering chapter ;) I can ABSOLUTELY 100 GARUNTEE that the next chapter has some mech (And tank and infantry) blasting. _

_Second:...Well...Guess I really don't have a second...oh well._

--

_"Alpha Wolf Leader, this is Firebird Leader, we got mechs inbound from west. I make out 10 mechs of varying class, speed 35 kilometers per hour, looks like they are escorting a small convoy. "_

_Grant keyed the comlink, "Sheppard mechs?"_

_"No sir, the sensors read Smoke Tigers," came the reply._

Sighing, Grant keyed the link again, "Okay Firebird Leader. Go meet them and bring them in. When you're done, park your mechs and take a breather. Until we're fully organized I don't want all my mechwarriors wearing thin at the same time."

"You got it Alpha Wolf. Firebird moving out," came the reply before the comlink quite.

Turning he switched to general coms, "Beta, Third Company leader, Major Tam, are you available?"

There was several minutes silence and two repeated calls before she responded, "Sorry Sir. I was out of my mech."

"That's fine. Take Third Company and set up roving patrols 10 clicks out. Until our defences are in order I want to be as forewarned as possible."

"Yes sir. I'll round them up. Tam, out."

That done with he went through the shutdown cycle on his iMadcat/i, the mech finally slowing to a dull hum and giving a small shudder as the reactor shut down. He unstrapped the neurohelmet and slipped it off his head, then unstrapping himself from the mech's piloting seat.

He opened the mech's hatch, allowing sunlight to stream into the mech, the tinted window's allowing little into the cockpit.

Grabbing the pack behind his mech's couch, he quickly changed from the cooling vest and shorts into his uniform, a tough procedure in the cramped cockpit. However he wasn't sure if his quarters contents had been moved to the ground, and he knew that his pack contained one. Cooling vests and shorts always became uncomfortable after being worn for hours, especially if they were not needed.

Fully dressed, he slipped the pack over a shoulder and climbed out of the _Madcat_ and down the footholds on the legs.

On the ground he was met by the Raider's infantry commander, Charles Connor.

"Sir," he said, giving just barely a salute, the luxury of being in a merc outfit, "Your command center, and personal quarters are set up. The rest of the camp should be finished in a couple hours."

"Good work Major. Looks like your training is paying off," Grant paused a moment, "The other merc unit I told you about, are nearing arrival. When they come in, make a hole for their personal and equipment, then bring the commanding and executive officers to my quarters."

"Yes sir," Connor gave another brief salute before moving off into the bustle of the camp.

Grant looked around at the moderately calming confusion all around camp before walking to his quarters. When setting up a field base, the layout was generally the same, allowing the personal to easily find their tents.

Finding his, he stepped inside, laying his pack alongside of his bunk. It was set up the same as his dropship, his desk was off to one side, computer, printer, and several other neccessities on it, bunk on the other side, foot locker underneath and at the end a small weapons case, carrying what weapons he needed without having to go to the dropship's armory.

He was just about to seat himself at his desk when the slow thumps of approaching mech's could be felt. Grant got up and walked to the tents doorway, looking at the approaching convoy. Although still half a kilometer away, the combined weight of ten battlemechs still tremored the ground.

He watched until they pulled into the compound and then stepped back inside his tent. Seating himself at the desk, he took a computer disc out and inserted it into his laptop. Rosice, his new temporary home, fluttered on the screen a moment before stabilizing into a interactive globe.

Grant almost absently began mapping out the defences of his section of line, nearly half of the eastern continent. With the exception of a lance of Sheppard mechs and the Smoke Tigers, all that would give support to his forces would be infantry and a very few tanks, most of even them withdrawn to the western continent upon his arrival.

After a few more minutes he glanced at his watch. Although he expected them to settle in first, it had been nearly half an hour since the Tiger's arrival. And he had expected at least something. As if on cue, Major Connor stepped into the tent.

"Sir. You better get out here," he said before ducking back out.

Moderately alarmed, Grant stepped from the desk, and out of the tent. The picture that greeted him would have been amusing under any other situation.

The Smoke Tiger's commander and her second in command had been brought to his tent, and had happened to arrive at the same time as his own XO, Kenna Carns.

Taking a moment before barging in, Grant leaned over to Connor, "What the hell happened?"

"I dunno sir. Me and private Davis were bringing Commander Warrick to your tent when Commander Carns stepped in front of me. That's when," he motioned, "This started."

Turning back to the scene in front of him, he gave a small chuckle. Kenna, six feet tall, 180 pounds of muscle, stood face to face...or more face to head with Commander Tanea Warrick, a sour look on her face and hand gripped instinctively on her short katana, ignoring her sidearm.

Warrick had an equally sour look, and was slowly flexing her fist around her holstered pistol. The woman was not backing down, and had matched Kenna's intense stare, albeit barely, due to the height differance. Standing a good 5 inches shorter and not two thirds the weight of the opposite woman, the intense stare was making up for whatever physical differance there was.

Finally he had enough, "Lieutenant Commander Carns step back. Sub-Commander Warrick at ease." He spoke forcefully but refrained from bellowing.

They both continued the staring match, and for a moment Grant swore that both managed to keep one eye on the other while swiveling an eye towards him.

As they failed to quite, Grant spoke Louder, "COMMANDERS WARRICK AND CARNS."

At this they both finally eased somewhat. Both hesitantly stepping away from each other, Kenna, to Grant's tent flap, while Tanea backed alongside her executive officer.

Grant glanced at Kenna for a moment before turning to the Tigers, "Come with me." he said, turning and walking into his tent. Kenna remained alongside the doorway, and as the two mechwarriors passed her, the commander and her traded glares before moving out of sight.

Once inside, Grant sat behind his desk as Tanea and her escort stood in front of it.

Taking a moment, he looked them over, complete opposites in every way. The man was a hulking mass, large enough to give smaller elementals a run for their money, blonde haired and a very pale complexion, one which may have caused him to be the butt of many jokes if not for his immense size. He stood at a loose attention, his demeanor respecting, but obviously differing towards his own commander.

His commander was another story. She was at attention, and externally appeared correct. However her posture and manner indicated that she was less than pleased with the arrangement. Even so she kept a somewhat arrogant posture, as if daring anyone to approach her. Unlike her pale XO, her skin was dark. White, but with a dark undertone, giving it a grayish appearance, matching her brown hair, kept in a severely tight ponytail. She could have been considered attractive had it not been for the gaze she was directing at him. Hard gray eyes, with a penetrating gaze that made him mildly uncomfortable.

"I assume you have heard of your orders?" Grant asked.

"Yes sir," came the abrupt reply.

"I will get to the point then. You don't screw with me and I won't with you. You retain direct control over your company and as long as your objectives are obtained, and you do not endanger my own forces you are free to do your job as you see fit," Grant paused and then continued.

"You will retain your ranking as commander, but with the status of a Captain in my unit as long as you are here. You will take orders primarily from myself. However you will follow orders from Battalion commanders as needed. And anything my executive officer, Kenna Carns says, goes as if it were my own...Clear?"

Warrick paused a moment, "Carns...a Wolf sir?" she asked.

Grant raised an eyebrow, "Yes. I am surprised you noticed. Few people recognize a Clan Bloodname. She is my second in command, and currently my bondsman."

At this her executive officer snorted, "A bondsman...second in command? Must be a good bed..." he trailed off as he stared into the gaping barrel of a .500 magnum revolver.

"What was that?" Grant asked. He had sprang forward from the desk, pulling his massive revolver from it's shoulder holster and aiming it forward in one motion.

"Uh...mmm..nothing," the man muttered.

"Excuse Lieutenant Halstead, Commander Prien. He has a deep dislike and prejudice towards Clansmen," Warrick spoke, a hint of distaste in the words.

Relaxing a moment, Grant re-holstered his revolver and sat back in his chair, "I understand your position Lieutenant. I feel the same way...What part of the Republic were you from?"

The big man smiled a moment, "Rasalhague itself sir. I was 15 when the Clans come through. Killed a lot of my friends...I'm sorry sir...I was out of line." The man had become more sullen as he had been thinking back, before muttering a brief apology.

Grant had a brief inner smile. The man had realized that for now it would be better to not start off on the wrong foot.

"Outpost, 3050. As for Kenna Carns, she has earned my respect. Saved my life a couple times, and I can trust her decisions implicitly," he replied.

"And yet she is still a bondsman?" Warrick spoke up. Glancing at her, Grant saw her defiance had returned. Something in her actions, speech, and character gave him a brief flash of deja'vu but he shrugged it off.

"For now," he replied. Wanting to change the subject he continued, "That case," he motioned to a small pouch being carried by the commander, "Is for me I assume?"

"Yes sir," she set it on his desk, "Up-to-date line reports, unit locations and intellegance from the Kinsey lines...A couple of things you aren't going to like."

"Such as?" he asked.

"36 hours before you arrived a Lyran unit touched down. A battalion of mechs from the 1st Alarion Jaegers, along with an attached armor battalion, infantry and support assets," she spoke and then sprouted a slightly smug smile. Grant may have control of her unit, but that didn't make the situation any better.

"Damnit," Grant took the packet and slipped it in a drawer. His mind occupied, he motioned to the two commanders in front of him, "My unit will help erect quarters and facilities for your unit. If needed, my company will provide techs and supplies as long as we are not in need ourselves. If you need anything, my tent flap is open."

"We are being dismissed?" Warrick asked, sure, but not wanting to walk out.

"Dismissed," Grant muttered. As the two walked out, he became irritated, something nagged at him. As he thought about Commander Warrick, something struck a bell in his head. What, he wasn't sure, but something.

As the two Tigers left, Kenna stepped inside the tent. Noting his attentive appearance she spoke, "Something wrong sir?"

He looked up a moment, "Does she strike you as...familiar...? Something seems...off.."

At this Kenna raised an eyebrow, mildly amused, "You do not..." she trailed off.

"What?"

"Nothing sir," she added before turning to leave the tent.

"Kenna." That stopped her. He always addressed her as "Commander" or "Carns" when spekaing normally. Only when he was severly irritated, or speaking as a friend, which was rare, did he speak her name. She turned.

"What?" he asked again.

She paused, "It is not my place sir." She stood silent a moment before he waved and she left the tent.

As his second in command left the tent, Grant leaned back in his chair. Something kept nagging him, but now he wasn't sure if it was Warrick, Kinsey, or the Lyrans.


	7. Chapter 7 A fight at last

YAHOO!!!! Finally got another chapter uploaded, and chap 8 is half done :)

A few things:  
#1. MANY THANKS! for all the reviews :) They are much appreciated!  
#2. Be BRUTAL when it comes to reviews ;) I don't mind and encourage criticism.  
#3. FINALLY a mech combat scene...Not the greatest ;) Sorry. Combat, although I **LOVE** it, I cannot write extremely well ;)

See any mistakes, critiques/criticisms let me know!!!

----------------------------------------------

"Wolf.....der we are fall.....back....2 Lance....Heavies incoming," came the voice. Static filled and garbled it was, Grant could tell it was Sharon Kepper, a lance commander of two heavy and 2 medium mechs.

"Fall back to Tam's lance and hold there. Wolf lance is coming," he replied.

"....knowladed" Came the reply. It still amazed him, that with all the modern technology the communications on mechs were still so vulnerable to the heat and damage of a mech. Switching to the lance-band he barked two short orders and his lance moved out.

As the four mechs slowly accelerated to their top speed and moved forward, Grant quickly re-organized his thoughts.

Within 24 hours of the Raiders landing, the newly arrived Lyran forces had launched an attack on a thinly held section of lines held by Sheppard. Four companies of battlemechs with full infantry and armor support quickly smashed the single lance of mechs and dozen tanks in that sector.

Most Sheppard units had pulled back to a skirmish line the Raiders had established roughly 30 kilometers behind the initial lines. The few who had not fled, were holed up in the smaller villages, few numbering more than a couple of platoons.

The Lyrans had halted to re-organize and were now continuing their offensive. The forward lances up and down the line were reporting contact.

Their defense line was centered around a low valley, stretching several hundred kilometers long, by only 15 to 20 wide. The valley's bottom was primarily rolling hills, criss-crossed with farming fields, pastures and small villages. Most of it open ground, with clusters of trees and occasional stream. On the left the valley ended abruptly on a large lake, too deep for even battlemechs to cross, while to the right, the mountains began, steep enough that only jump capable mechs and infantry had any hope of remaining mobile.

The Lyran advance was moving right down the center of the valley. In the open ground, the Lyran armor was moving easily behind the slow-moving assaults and heavies, providing fire support. On the flanks, it was primarily held by infantry and light or medium mechs. Right now the advance was nearing a small village called Fremont.

The Sheppards had made it clear that the line had to be re-drawn in the valley, and soon after pushed back. The town had been built around a pair of business, one a grain mill, the other a lumber mill. Small-time industries, but by now the excuses for the war had been down to people sneezing at each other.

Grant felt the Raiders were partially lucky in the fact that Fremont was in one of the few remaining "Wild" areas of the planet. That is the surrounding area had been undeveloped in a number of areas, leaving large sections of forested bottoms and wooded-in streams that provided natural defense, while slowing the Lyran armor.

His 2nd Company, outfitted primarily with assaults, had drawn a rough line in front of the town, in good defensive positions with eight PPC armed tanks giving them additional long-range punch, capable of shredding an opposing unit before coming into firing range.

The Lyrans had parked two lances of assault mechs and most of their armor, just out of range, keeping those Raider forces tied down.

Now, the remaining three companies of Alarion Jaeger battlemechs were making flanking attempts, using the firepower of their heavy mechs to drive back the light and medium mechs that were holding them.

Right now it appeared as though the Lyrans were hitting the left flank. He had 3 lances holding it, and their commanders were reliable, not prone to panicking. Thus when they reported 6 lances attacking, two each of light, medium and heavy mechs, he believed them. However their lances were primarily light and mediums, with only two heavy mechs.

He had the Smoke Tigers and two of his lances guarding the right flank. Enough to guard against what the Lyrans should have left. Hopefully at least. Aside from the PPC armed _Schreks_ and _Manticores_, the rest of his armor and 5 lances of his battlemechs had continued up the valley, halting an attack by two and a half Kinsey's mech companies.

As his lance neared the low row of timbered knolls that his lances were occupying he let out a mental curse.

Theoretically the Kinsey and Sheppard forces should have been equal. But almost all of the Sheppard mechs were on the other continent other than a single mixed lance of lights and mediums. As was half of their armor, leaving only infantry, the Smoke Tigers and himself this continent. Kinsey on the other hand, had enough of a superiority in numbers, that he still had his entire four companies of battlemechs on this continent, aiding the Lyrans, while a mercenary unit occupied the Sheppard forces.

Even with threat of hostilities, for several hundred years the Sheppards had done little to equip their army with mechs or tanks. Instead relying on fortifying the borders, that policy only changing with the ascension of John Sheppard's father, Earl, who realized that the Kinsey's on the other hand had focused on building a quite large, offensively oriented army. Consisting of mechs and armor, it could easily overwhelm the outdated defences.

Kinsey on the other hand was a sneaky son of a bitch. Convincing Katrina Steiner that a victory on Rosice would be a propaganda victory for her was a success, considering normally the planetary civil war would have been far from important. Adding in the mercenary unit he hired, the Kinsey's had a roughly two company advantage in numbers.

Almost immediately his mind shifted as his _MadCat's_ sensors finally began picking up the signatures of the skirmish ahead. As he shifted into combat mode, politics, payment, became a blur in his mind, now shifting towards tactics.

Major Ariel Tam's lance, the Hellfires, was hammering the incoming Lyran mechs. The fast mechs moving, pausing to fire off a volley of their long range weapons before jumping to avoid incoming fire. Kepper's lance, the Jackals, had taken damage and pulled into a stand of trees behind the fast medium lance, the _Archer_ and _Thunderbolt_ firing occasional shots towards the attackers, while the _Centurion_ and _Hunchback_ waited for the distance to close.

Two mechs with long-range weapons from Rogue lance, under Lieutenant Hawthorn, a _Griffin_ and a _Centurion_ were also venturing out, and trading fire with the Lyrans, while the short ranged mechs waited in cover for the advancing forces.

As an intimidation factor, as his lance topped the small knoll, he paused his _Madcat_, backlit against the sky. With the re-introduction of Star League technology, the Clantech was no longer fully invincible. However to the many Inner Sphere mechwarriors who had not faced the clans, the _Madcat_ was a symbol of power, fear and foreboding. The row of advancing mechs shuddered just a moment then pushed forward, having seen the two clan mechs arrive.

It also gave him a chance to look over the opposition. Three omnimechs, two _Avatars_ and a _Blackhawk_, were reconfigured to be missileboats, and were providing covering fire for the advancing mechs, while a pair of Penetraters had just gotten into firing range of their ER lasers, and were now advancing slowly to be more accurate, and covering the faster mechs advancing. A good plan, forcing his PPC and LRM armed mechs to split their fire between the covering and advancing mechs, rather than allow either a moments respite.

His defenders began slowly falling back to his arriving lance and the forest-concealing brawlers. Even with his lance they were still outnumbered by the Lyrans, who had a lance more heavies, and better mechs, a very rare couple still being of oldtech.

After several months of inactivity, combined with a momentary rush of adrenaline, he barked a single word into the com, "MELEE." before slamming down on the petals, forcing the _Madcat_ into a lope. The unit knew what that single command meant, the mechs with primarily long-range weapons fell back and the brawlers rushed forward under a hailstorm of PPC and LRM fire.

The advancing line however was an experience Lyran unit, and not a backwater militia. It didn't falter, but instead responded with weapons.

Slowing his mech, Grant plastered the targeting reticule over a _Penetrator_, as the indicator went gold, he smashed the top firing stud. A pair of azure bolts streaked between the mechs, one PPC smashing into the _Penetrator's_ arm, while the other grazed it's leg. The mech quickly pivoted it's torso, replying with a pair of ER lasers. One of the lasers hit dead in his torso, while the second missed.

The former clan mech shrugged off the attack and continued it's forward lope. Grant ignored the cluster of mechs in front of him, concentrating on the three mechs firing missile clouds toward the Raider mechs. He targeted a _Avatar_ and as the computer sounded a lock, fired a flight of LRM10's towards it.

A _Hatchetman_ and a _Wolfhound_ swerved in front of him, attempting to deflect his attack on the support mechs. The _Hatchetman_ fired it's LBX, the fragmented rounds hitting his torso and jarring the mech as the _Wolfhound_ fired a large laser at his rear. As the big mech regained it's steadiness, Grant had to acknowledge the skill of the Lyrans. Using two mechs that barely equaled his own weight, their tactic of splitting, one drawing fire while the other sucker-punched from the rear, was a good strategy.

Except against a mech packing 12 tons of ferro-fibrous armor. He pivoted the _Madcat_, tracking the lighter of the two mechs. The _Wolfhound_ seemed to sense the danger as it lept forward, attempting to throw off the targeting.

'Too late,' thought Grant, as he smoothly pressed the firing stud. Four emerald beams reached out to the light mech, the medium lasers clawing at it's armor. The mech staggered a moment at the loss of weight, and he triggered his SRM's. 12 missiles streaked towards the mech, however it regained it's footing and moved off, avoiding half of them. The other half ripped into right side of the mech, exposing internal wires and gouging out holes in the torso, albeit with little damage other than armor.

Another cloud of LBX shots impacted his rear torso. Grant growled as the rear armor tracker blinked into yellow. He twisted the mech back towards the _Hatchetman_, just in time to watch a literal stream of emerald beams neatly cleave off the arm holding the mech's signature weapon, the weight loss sending the mech facedown into the earth.

Kenna's _Ryoken_ trotted into the scene, firing another cluster of ER lasers at the now-rising mech, it responding with three pulsing beams of laser.

Turning back to his opponent, the _Wolfhound_ fired it's medium lasers into his mech, sizzling armor off of his arms.

Grant slowed as he placed the reticule over the light mech. As he about pressed the stud, the computer's alarm blared as the _Avatar's_ locked onto his mech. He grimaced and braced his mech as 2 full salvo's blasted his mech. The Atremis enhanced LRM's wreaked havoc on his mech, shredding armor, and leaving his left arm barely functioning weapons, while almost his entire mech went from green to orange on the armor tracker.

The mech teetered, the loss of almost 2 tons of armor making it unsteady. Finally righting it, he quickly turned on the _Wolfhound_ as it darted behind him for a quick blow. He fired his jump jets, allowing the 3 hastily fired lasers to miss. Landing, he twisted the torso, lining up the light mech.

"See you in hell," he barked into the loudspeakers, although the mech was too far off to hear. Almost in the perfect range. He pressed the button and a pair of PPC bolts clawed through the air, impacting on the light mechs arm and leg. The arm holding it's large ER laser, already damaged broke off, while it's left leg bent into a tangle as the actuater snapped to the onslaught.

In no shape to continue battle, the mech began limping towards the rear of the line. Although he hated letting it go, Grant ignored the damaged mech and lurched his own mech towards the three missile boats.

Their heavy firepower was a dangerous factor on the field, plus, they were the newer mechs, meaning probably the lance commanders. Taking them out meant more than half of the other mechs.

He glanced at his sensors. The Lyran _Hatchetman's_ signature disappeared, and Kenna's mech accelerated in his direction, latching onto a _Penetrator_ that had just started following Grant back to the supporting mechs. The 75 ton mech turned, unable leave his back open to her attacks, leaving Grant dead-open in facing the missileboats.

Three-to-one odds were not something he liked, however the fact that at the ranges he was fast nearing, the LRM's would not be nearly as effective. The mech's realized this and concentrated their fire on him. However on the open ground, his mech quickly closed the distance, it's speed giving the LRM's difficulty in tracking him.

Missile locks blared, as three full, 30 plus missile salvo's came at him. His angling attack, combined with high speed however, meant that the final salvo just barely clipped him, while the rest soared by.

As the effective range of the missiles as reached, the _Avatar's_, whose 2 hardwired MLAS's were the only short-range weapons, leaped forward, and split, while the _Blackhawk KU_, back-peddled as fast as it could.

Grant swiveled the mech to face the closest approaching _Avatar_. Four emerald beams connected the mechs for a split second, before a cloud of exhaust bellow from his _Madcat's_ launchbox.

The pilot absorbed the four lasers, teetering but remaining upright, until the missiles centered the mech, sending it reeling backwards into the ground.

A pair of medium lasers scorched his left arm, breaking into his momentary surge of ego. The second _Avatar_ quickly trotted a circle around his left side, keeping well away from him. A minor attack usually, the pair of medium lasers blinked offline amidst computer warnings of critical hits, due to the heavy beating that arm had already taken.

A sound tactic of circling a side-crippled mech, was cut short by his _Madcat's_ jumpjets. The massive Clan mech rose into the air and landed opposite the Lyran mech. It's pilot recognized the danger as Grant raised the mech's two arms, the jet-nozzle-like PPC projecters appearing as large as dual shotgun bores.

Raising his mech's stubby arms, the Lyran charged forward at Grant's mech. As the Lyran ran, the shoulders and arms fired a full salvo of rockets, the white exhaust nearly blocking out all view of the mech.

Grant's _Madcat_ shuddered, and then teetered as the missiles caught him. He hadn't expected the Lyran to do that, the missiles being horribly in-accurate at close range. Only one salvo hit him, but it was enough to keep him from firing back as the Lyran mech slammed into him.

The force of the impact sent both mechs down in a tumble of metal. For several seconds both clambered to regain their footing, while at the same time landing blows as best they could to their opponent.

Wrestling with the mech, Grant finally got his _Madcat_ on it's feet, swiveling quickly at the now-rising _Avatar_. Although it was at point-blank range, he fired off both of his PPCs, follow by the remaining two lasers, and triggered his SRMs.

The Lyran mech staggered under the onslaught before crashing to the ground, not to rise, it's cockpit obliterated by a PPC.

As he stood and looked at the carnage around him and saw the Lyran advance coming back towards him. The pair of missile boats were now focusing on more important targets, and covering the Lyran retreat. Being experienced, it was taking place in a leapfrog movement, one half moving, the other half covering. Effective, considering that retreats were always costly.

Grant glanced at his armor tracker, and somewhat unwillingly trotted his mech away from the Lyrans. Tangling with the light mechs earlier, combined with the LRMs had turned his mech's armor into threads. And considering the Lyrans were retreating there was no need to endanger his mech.

However as he watched, a pair of _Penetrators_ broke off and trotted towards him. Obviously hoping for a quick kill on a damaged mech before retreating.

Grimacing, he worked his Madcat up to a lope towards his own forces, either shaking them off, or drawing them into enemy fire.

Intent on getting into easier range for the ER lasers, the pair of mechs trottled up and followed him. It was then, that Grant saw what prompted the Lyran retreat.

Watching the mech's behind him, Grant just caught the bluish PPC bolts whizzing by his mech, behind him. They impacted dead on the torso of the lead _Penetrator_ and upon seeing their new opponent both rejoined the Lyran mass.

Looking forward, he saw what appeared to be a _Warhammer_. However as one of his own _Archers_ stepped alongside he realized the new arrivals.

Glancing at his mech's scanner, he read the IFF of Warrick's _Warhammer IIC_ and the lead star of her Smoke Tigers.


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay guys.....Sorta short..and more blabbing. But the next chapter was quite differant, and I wanted to put this in ahead of time._

_I look at it...Yeah..I know. I'm sorry, and I realize that I have a tendancy to overthink things. And although it didn't turn out QUITE as well as I had first thought, it moderately shows the two butting heads._

_Feedback is appreciated :)_

_P.S. Sorry for lack of updates....Got my CrimsonSkies website moved (And rebuilt after hacking......) and I been busy on that._

_----------------------------------_

Grant was seated at his desk when Kenna entered the tent, "Commander Warrick is outside sir."

Grant waved her off, "In a moment commander," he turned back to the man in front of him, "Go ahead Merlin."

"Well. 'S I's sayin'. The Lyrins left six mechs on t'field an' we man'ged to salvage two'u'm. A _Penetrator _and a _Wolfhu'nd_," Merlin looked over his glasses at the Raiders leader, "We lost 6 mechs there...And you're DAMNED lucky you di'nt lose more."

"How bad a shape are they in?" Grant asked.

"Oh...Of'ta six, we can probably get four back in working shape. With a LHOHT of work, we can get'm back in action in a week or two. We'll be busy just repairing for the next few days . But Davis' _Centurion _and Kelly's _Trebuchet _'r outta the war."

"We're lucky on one thing Merlin. At least the Lyrans are out six mechs, and they pulled back long enough for us to skim the battlefield."

"Ye'. Well. We'll be done with repairs in two days, they lost 'lot of the hard to replace systems. Another four days to get our damaged mechs back in service, then another four to refurbish the Lyran mechs."

"Okay Merlin. As soon as the mechs are repaired, let the mechwarriors know. They'll want their rides back. And when you get the Lyran mechs finished up, if we ain't had more losses, get Kelly the _Wolfhound_, and assign Davis to start getting used to the _Penetrator_. Jackal lance needs another heavy anyway," Grant leaned back in his chair and wiped his hands over his face.

"Ahright. I'll be leavin' now," Merlin gave a almost ruefull shake of his head, "Next time, be a little easier on my mechs."

Grant chuckled at that, "Tell the Lyrans that," he said as "Merlin" Macgregor trotted out of his tent.

Almost immediately his XO, Kenna Carns entered the tent, "Are you ready for Warrick?" she asked.

He sighed, "Yeah I guess. Probably shouldn't unleash on her eh?"

Kenna raised an eyebrow, "She did break orders to remain on the right flank. You never called for backup."

"No. And we could have beat 'em back, but we'd be out a lot more and the Lyrans might not have allowed salvage," Grant nodded, "Show her in."

Kenna disappeared, only to return a moment later with the Smoke Tiger commander. Much the same as the first visit, at attention, but with an arrogant stance. Still grimy from the battle, having remained on an extra shift on the main lines.

Grant didn't speak for several minutes, letting her stand there. Finally he spoke, "Well?"

Tanea Warrick stood and glared a moment before replying, "To what?"

"Breaking standing orders to remain on right flank. And leaving only a Star and Lance there. To come and assist a unit that did not request backup."

He smothered a chuckle as he watched her jaw muscles clench and regulate her breathing, attempeting to choke back a knee-jerk response.

"The right flank was secure. There was only 2 lances of assorted light and mediums holding at 2 klicks. My second star and Lieutenant Hoffman's lance of mediums and heavy mechs were quite ample to repel any attack by them."

"Captain Warrick, there is currently two lances of Kinsey mechs that are un-accounted for. Both by spy reports, com-sat coverage and aerial reconnaissance. The right flank was heavily surrounded by dense forest, easily capable of concealing those mechs," Grant put some anger in his voice, although he did not mean any of it.

"With due respect..SIR," she hissed through her teeth, "The fact still stands that nothing did happen. It was a risk, but the end result would have been the same. The remaining right flank forces were in a position to hold off superior forces, until my star could return as reinforcements. It was a risk I believed worthwhile."

Grant changed his attitude. Switching from his put-forward act of anger, and into his real state of mind.

"That is true Captain. And the fact also remains that the arrival of your star prevented undue casulties of my forces. I did not bring you in here to reprimand you. Although we likely would have defeated the Lyran forces, our chief tech confirmed many were no more than walking targets," he paused and stood from his chair, "However I wanted to confirm that you acted out of weighing the odds, rather than in stupidity, ignoring or forgetting the possible risk."

At this, Warrick backed down, her eyes showing that the intitial anger had worn off, "Is that all sir?"

"For now. Get your command a good night's sleep. I have a full company out on patrol tonight, and I want you stars ready to take over in the morning."

"A full company sir?" Warrick asked.

He nodded, "We kicked back the Lyrans, but between their techs and Kinsey's, I don't want to take the chance they rearm too fast and sucker punch us. Between the company, and Sheppard's infantry, they can warn us long enough to send reinforcements."

Warrick gave a small smirk, and as she walked out of the tent, he realized that she had done the same thing as he had. Testing his reasoning, and examining it.

He frowned as he sat back in his chair. Even though they were on the same side, he didn't like it when someone else scrutinized him. That possibly was a double-standard, considering he checked background, and dug deep into the history of about anyone he met. But it generally, scrutinizing meant sizing up as a foe.

Shrugging it off, he looked over the laptop. Stuff was about the same now, as it had been three days ago when they had touched down. Except the Lyrans were down six mechs, and he was down six at the moment, and only two in a week.

The Lyrans had pulled back to the Kinsey lines after the Raiders had stopped their initial offensive. Their newly taken ground not suited to defending, and likely wanting to hold off and see what their new opponent was plannin.

What he didn't like was the fact that the last battle had gone as bad as it had. Having been in defensive positions, the Raiders shouldn't have taken the losses they had. Although that was probably due to the fact that during it, the Lyrans had a three lance advantage in numbers there.

The Kinsey offensive upriver had been halted. The arrival of his forces, along with a healthy dose by his aerofighters had been enough to convince them to withdraw, albeit with only light casulties.

All that was left now, was to wait for his mechs to be repaired and then get orders to advance.


	9. Chapter 9 Flashback

YEYEEEESSSSS!!!!!!!!!!! Finally got it done.

The ending sorta had me hung up, so I half-assed finished it....probably shows. Leastways. No garuntees it'll go faster, but I got some of my Crimson Skies stuff done, and my Monster Hunter International story is continuing as I worked through that writer's block!

WOW....I didn't realize it's been nearly a YEAR since I updated.....

Warning: Slight language in this chapter.

Any feedback is appreciated!

* * *

_"Delta Lance Leader, do you copy?"_

_Grant glanced around, instinctively tensing at the voice before replying, "Delta Lance Leader. Code Delta, Echo, Alpha Three."_

_"Alpha Lance. Code Alpha, Bravo Six," came the reply, pegging it as the Blaze's unit leader._

_With Clan Wolf getting closer every hour, Hell's Blazes had resorted to a confusing and haphazard mix of coding to authorize each unit. With unnerving accuracy, the clanners had begun anticipating the units movements. This of course led to the serious possibility of a spy----or traitor. And as a last resort, began using radio codes in the off chance of the Clansmen gaining control of their frequency._

_"Go ahead Alpha Leader," Grant spoke into the comm._

_"Fall back as fast as your can. Charlie is engaging a Star and Toads about a klick behind the convoy and 3 ahead of you. Make sure you don't get caught behind us," Daniele "Hella" O'neill's voice came in abruptly._

_Grant's lance consisted of lights and mediums, all jump capable and were acting as a rear sentry to the retreating convoy of techs, important civilians and supplies, all fleeing from the steadily encroaching clan forces._

_"Roger Alpha. Falling back," Grant keyed the lance band, "You copy that?"_

_"Roger Lance Leader."_

_"Yes sir."_

_"Aff."_

_At the last report, Grant smothered the urge to snarl at the speaker. He still disliked the fact that the clanswoman had been assigned to his lance. For some reason the unit's commander had insisted on it. The woman...Kenna was the name, had been firm in the fact that Grant, and Grant solely was her bondsholder, as she called it._

_As he throttled up his **Clint** he again felt himself wishing that Daniele O'neill, the unit's CO had not been able to retain "ownership" of the clanner. He still couldn't figure out what deal she had cut with the Rasalhague leaders, but in his mind, it didn't work out on their end._

_The other three mechs in the lance throttled up and began trotting and jumping back as fast as they could safely. The terrain surrounding the small lance was steep, and what few slopes were traversable, were covered in gravel and loose stone._

_The lance had barely covered half of the distance to the convoy, when a rock bounced down the hillside in front of them, followed by another, then a small stream of rocks._

_Twisting his mech, Grant got a glance uphill just a second too late, seeing the outline of a **Puma**, . A PPC blast whizzed downhill and impacted Dave Anker's **Valkyrie**._

_"CRAP," was the last word out of Anker's mouth as the light mech's leg bowed and then snapped, falling the mech. Off-balance when it hit, the mech slipped off the level ground and down the mountain's slope. From there it only gained momentum, bouncing down the hillside like a toy truck before coming to a rest at the bottom of the mountain, a twisted pile of metal._

_"DAVE!" screamed the second member of the lance, Joel Green._

_Shaken, Grant forced himself to ignore the squeamish likelihood of the death and opened a broadband transmission, unable to go through the lengthy process of authorization._

_"CLAN MECHS APPROACHING THE CONVOY. PASSIVE SENSORS," he quit the transmission, focusing his attention on his jumpjets as he lept forward, attempting to avoid the incoming hail of fire._

_The remaining members of his lance, the clanswoman Kenna, in her **Jenner** and Joel in his **Assassin** scattered in the face of overwhelming clan fire. It was only luck they were not annihilated. They had stumbled onto an entire trinary, skirting a mountain ridgeline for cover and running on passive to avoid detection._

_The initial destruction of the Valkyrie had only been after careful, deliberate aiming on the part of the **Puma's** pilot, the passive sensors were no aid in sighting at this distance. That advantage was now rapidly being lost as the clansmen realized their cover was blown and began activating their full sensors._

_The **Clint** landed on solid ground and Grant glanced at his mechs. It looked like two stars of the trinary were ignoring his lance, instead accelerating towards the convoy, while the last star, a pair of **Puma's**, a **Uller**, a **Fenris** and one of the faster medium mechs, a **Ryoken**, broke off and moved to annihilate his three mechs._

_Green's **Assassin** stumbled slightly as his mech landed. It only took a second to re-orient itself, but the Uller was quick to take advantage, darting ahead of the main force and sinking a large laser into the mech's chest, following it with a blast of four streak missiles, which gouged out holes throughout the body, the Assassin teetered, and just barely righted itself, while the light clan mech streaked behind the still shaken mech and readied for another strike._

_"HEY ASSHOLE, OVER HERE," Grant yelled into the external speakers. The clan mech twisted just slightly towards him for a second before turning back to the mech in front of it. It's large laser fired a split second after the PPC round slammed into it's arm, stripping off the armor and sending the **Uller's** bright, green beam into a rock instead of it's target._

_"Didn't expect that did you ya' bastard," he crowed over the com. Grant had been one of the lucky ones, his mech was only one of a handful of the unit that had received the technology upgrades, his was an ER PPC, a pair of pulse lasers and double heat sinks. It flat-out amazed him at what the new stuff could do. A vast improvement over his old AC/5 and twin medium lasers._

_The recovered **Assassin** twisted on the clanner and fired it's medium laser, searing off more armor, although the pair of SRM's missed wildly._

_The **Uller** quickly retreated back to the rapidly advancing clan mechs. By now the ER lasers were beginning to cut through the rapidly darkening evening, missing at the extreme range and high speed, but coming closer every second._

_The one advantage his mechs had were jumpjets, which the clans seemed to universally reject. Another jump put them out of range of most of the clan weapons, except for the **Puma's**._

_The ER PPC carriers slowed and began leapfrogging, with one firing, and the other running at breakneck speed while cooling, the blue bolts hitting dangerously close, and forcing them to focus on piloting rather than returning fire._

_By now it was only pure luck that no one had been tagged by the vaporizing PPC's._

_".........OME IN DAMNIT. THIS IS THE LAST TIME BEFORE I BLOW YOUR FUCKIN' HEAD OFF," a voice roared over the radio. It startled him a moment before he realized he had tuned out the comm's unit, and the inhuman voice was the Danielle._

_"Alpha, we're coming in. You're just appearing on our scope," Grant glanced at his sensors, and a small cluser of signals appeared behind him, both red and blue, indicating the skirmish behind him._

_"Well get your ass moving," Danielle snapped, "The clanners are hitting us hard, and if you don't get here ASAP, you're getting left behind." A massive hiss in the background signaled a hit on her mech, punctuating her sentence._

_Grant glanced at the clan mechs. Seeing the battle now in sight, they had abandoned all caution and were charging across the slopes, firing wildly in-accurate shots on the off-chance of hitting, only intent on closing the range._

_The other two mechs had overheard the commander, and with his mech turning, followed it in a mad dash back to the battle, knowing that the 3 light mechs couldn't tangle with twice their weight of mechs, especially clan ones._

_What followed was a half kilometer mad dash. From another perspective it may have been amusing, 3 lightweight mechs running and jumping at high speed, with a larger pack of heavier machines chasing, with all the appearance of sheep fleeing from a pack of wolves. Of course the consequences were as harsh as the scene looked as well._

_The battle that the trio ran into was the consequence of a 800 kilometer chase across mountains and forests. Hell's Blazes had been assigned a "plum" objective, which no one really believed, as Rasalhague had never been all that receptive of mercenaries. A "Quick and easy as cake", as spoken by the FRR liaison, objective of making a quick drop onto a Clan Wolf occupied planet, snatch off a small bunch of high level personal that had been hiding since the occupation, and as many resistance fighters as they could within the time constraints._

_It had probably been business-as-usual, that the liaison had neglected to mention that the planet contained a front-line Cluster that was there temporarily, on top of the garrison the planet normally had._

_Which was the reason that the Blaze's had been caught on-planet, with the dropship destroyed, pursued by a Cluster of Wolf battlemechs, and now, with the last reinforced company and a half of Blaze's battlemechs and an assortment of vehicles, duking it out with one and a half trinaries of clan omnimechs and elementals._

_"Delta lance, cover the convoy. Keep the toads offa them," O'neill's voice came in short gasps across the radio, "We're a little tied up."_

_"Copy Alpha," Glancing back, Grant could see why, as her much-modified **Cyclops** smashed a gauss slug into a **Gladiator**, only to be on the smashing end of a burst of 50MM shells from the UAC/20._

_Somewhat drawn to the battle around him, nonetheless Grant pushed ahead, through it to the convoy. The protection of it's inhabitants was the most important objective. It's loss, would nullify any gains by the battle's win._

_Somehow, in the confusion, the vehicles had managed to pull ahead of the main battle, and were pulling through a valley, barely fitting down the narrow road through the tightly clustered forest._

_The only thing annoying them was half a dozen elementals, or "Toads" as they were referred to by the Inner Sphere. So far they were only picking at it. The firepower of the four tanks was enough to keep them from doing anything foolish, instead picking away at the armor, slowly bettering their odds._

_"Green, cover the right flank," he barked, "Clanner you're with me, we'll try and clean out the left for them."_

_The **Assassin** moved to the right, lending it's firepower to the tanks, picking at the elementals without straying from their protective firepower._

_Grant's **Clint** and Kenna's **Jenner** peeled off to the left, towards a pair of elementals harassing a personal carrier. He snapped off a shot at an elemental, the shot missing, and instead slamming into a massive pine tree, setting the branches ablaze. The Clanswoman's shot went better, as a quartet of red lasers straddled a battlesuit, two of the beams hitting it's torso and sending it into the ground._

_One of it's comrades leaned from behind a boulder and fired it's arm-mounted laser. The tiny blue beam hit the **Jenner** on the arm, but didn't faze the pilot, who instead turned and slammed a laser into the rock providing cover._

_An explosion rocked the convoy as a **Von Luckner** tank, their heaviest, exploded, showering the rest with shrapnel. However that was the final casualty, as the elementals pulled back in the face of overwhelming firepower._

_The convoy proceed as quickly as possible, considering the tight manner of the forest, pulling away from the battle._

_"Delta Lance. Mechwarrior Green remain with the convoy, I am returning to the battle," Grant swiveled the battlemech back towards the explosions of light behind me, "Mechwarrior Kenna, follow me."_

_"Should the convoy remain unescorted?" Kenna's voice came on the radio, "Only one battlemech and 3 heavily damaged tanks are not much if elementals or a Clan light mech catch them."_

_"Just do as I say clanner," Grant snapped at her. The **Jenner** swiveled a second to glance at his mech then silently continued ahead. The two battlemechs just reached the battle as Blazes mechs began pulling towards the forest's edge._

_"Blazes pull back. We're outgunned here," the unit CO called over the radio, "We fall back into the forest, try and use the cover to get out of here as fast as we can."_

_"We won't be able to," came a harried reply, "They're coming too hard, their numbers are too many."_

_The **Cyclops** paused a moment, then a voice came across the radio, "Surrender now mercenaries and you will be allowed to live. Refuse. And you will die." The transmission came just as a final star clomped onto the battlefield, a massive **Daishi**, accompanied by a **Mad** **Cat**, **Vulture**, and a pair of medium **Ryokens**._

_"You can go fuck yourself clanner," Daniele snarled over the radio, "Jackson. on me." Her **Cyclops** accelerated directly at the incoming command star, her lancemate's **Orion** following close behind her, "Blazes, fall back under our cover. If possible fire on the command star."_

_"What're you doing? That's suicide," snapped Anders, her third lancemate, tilting his **Catapult** towards the two charging battlemechs._

_"She knows," interupted Dennison, her XO. With a resigned voice he continued, "So does Jackson. Let's get the hell out of here and make it worth their death."_

_Taken by surprise, the clan mechs hesitated a brief moment, deciding whether to break zellbrigen and fire on the charging mechs, or continue their fights. Their hesitation cost them their leader. Even as lasers, PPC's and autocannon rounds tore into the **Cyclops**, the heavy battlemech slammed into the **Daishi**. The impact brought both giants down, and it cracked the final shreds of armor surrounding the mercenary's battlemech reactor casing. The resulting fireball engulfed the Clan assault mech and pelted the remainder of it's star with shrapnel._

_A few pilots who had been to occupied to fully realize or acknowledge the radio's content now filled the net with chatter, roars of exclamation and anger. The harsh voice of Dave Jackson snapped everyone back to the moment, "GOD DAMNIT YOU PEOPLE MOVE, Get out of here now."_

_The **Orion** he piloted was limping along, one actuater on it's right leg destroyed, while the hip was partially welded to the body from slagged metal. Knowing the chances of retreating with the battlemech were next to none, he had followed O'neill's mech into the fight. As the clan forces regrouped and began pressing the attack, he limped his mech towards them._

_As Hell's Blazes mechs began pulling back from the battle, running or walking to the cover of the woods, the **Orion** went the opposite direction. Following the lead of his commander, Jackson engaged the Clan forces head on. The AC/10 belched a 102MM round into a charging **Madcat**, ripping off one of it's dominant "ears" containing LRM20 launchers._

_Grant stared at the burning wreckage containing the **Daishi** and **Cyclops**. The unit commander. Their leader. Hi.., "Move it," he heard, as Dennison, now the unit's commander nudged his mech as he passed, "We're getting out of here."_

_The **Orion** stood it's ground, pouring rounds into oncoming Clan mechs. Out of missiles, the mech fired it's last round of autocannon ammo, missing the **Vulture**, but hitting a Fenris behind. The heavy battlemech pivoted quickly and slammed it's medium lasers into a Clan **Ryoken** as it moved to bypass him and pursue the main group._

_Drawing the ire of the remainder of the Wolves, the remaining mechs turned as one and destroyed the **Orion**. Combined fire from over a dozen mechs annihilated the loner. It exploded in a large fireball......_

* * *

"Crap," Grant muttered. No use trying to get back to sleep. It was 2:00 AM standard time, 1 AM on this planet. He stood up from his cot and walked to the tent's doorway and flipped open the tent's flap.

Rosice, on the southern edge of the Lyran Alliance was a long ways from the Wolf-occupied planet that he'd just visited in his dream. But the hundreds of light years in between hadn't made the thought's any less distant.

That had been ten years ago. Just before Tukayid stopped the Clan Invasion. It had decimated the unit. Battles before and immediately after his dream had whittled the Hell's Blazes from a powerful unit of a reinforced battalion and three tank companies to a pair of mech lances and four tanks. It had also cost them half of their friends and comrades gained from three years of fighting the clans. Their unit commander, both Daniele and her Executive Officer Dennison.

It had netted him a unit.

Grant turned back in the tent and ran a hand over his face. He still harbored guilt over the unit he had come to command. It wasn't his. He hadn't earned it. It was given to him because after the top four leaders were killed, his mech was the least damaged and he wasn't wounded.

The battle that was playing in his head was also what kept his intense dislike of the Clans alive. It wasn't hatred. He had lost that years ago, after both years of experience alongside his bondswoman Kenna, and working alongside both the Nova Cats and other bonded Clansmen. He knew their beliefs and ideals and his calmer, logical side cooled the prejudiced hatred, but he didn't accept them or give up his feeling of anger to the Clans in general. He couldn't.

The Clans had pursued him. First destroying the Outpost Planetary Militia, and driving him from his home, killing both his father and brother. He'd joined the Hell's Blazes only to have the majority of his new family killed by the Clans, along with his fiancee, and Dennison, a man who had become an uncle figure to him.

He put aside the thoughts of the past. It wasn't no good now. It was better to think ahead. His gut began telling him tomorrow would be a helluva day.


End file.
